Common sense, so simpleyet for some, so foreign anduncommon.
There is no way to peace. Peace is the way. So, peace be upon youas I bid you adieu.
I pray you find someone who speaks your heartand soul’s language, or someone committed to learning you, so you don’t waste timetrying to translate all that you are.
You are complicated, in the eyes of thosethat don’t understand. You are everything that is beautiful andsimple,in the eyes of thosethat do understand.
I pray that my definitions of love based on what I found in my grandparents -compassion, closeness,support, loyalty, humility -are not alteredby the harshnessand bitterness of life eventsand people withwintered hearts.
Love can manifest as a metaphysical connection, binding the mind and the heart, it transcends the body and extends beyond the confinesof time and space. Though it is free, leaves and comes as it wills, and manifests only if you choose to let it. And it lives, only if you’re attentive to it. For like a flower, if watered it blooms; if neglected, it wilts
Two things that matter at the end of one’s life: Feeling fulfilled in purposeQuality of one’s relationships
To be grateful and graceful. To not attach bigger meaningto fleeting things, for allis fleeting in this world.To enjoy the breeze on one’s faceand the sun rays’ warmth.To be grateful and gracefulas the wind gets colderand changes course,and the clouds submerge the sun. To be grateful and graceful.To be steady as the seasons change.
Let things leave.
“Perhaps we brought outthe worst in each other.”Or, perhaps we brought out exactly what we both needed to learn and experience.You learned to communicate,and not postpone.I learned to be angry, and say no. I think we both learned to live relationships backward,out of order,be uncomfortable,to lose a little,and still be okay.- Much as I care for you, I’ve cared for your dead Orchid out of which a new seed now blooms.
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Like two ends of a globeLike two shores of an oceanThey swirl and strobeThey melt at horizonsSometimes from distanceSometimes at an arm's lengththey chime with our rhythmsthey juxtapose with our wavelengthsYet, they fail to meet scouting eyesand fall short of startling highsFor,they are drifting and discreetuntil our heart learns to rowin waters of guileless beats.©pacifierpunch